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crossroad"crossroad"

to see what is before you -
how you have left your mark,
your residue upon my soul
which will never wash clean -

trajectories launched long before
and moments ago,
nudges of time considered
banal and forgotten,
in hindsight, still make no sense

not to recognize events ending
at the start of that step
bringing fates and fates closer,
no longer able to halt it

or retrieve what once felt
preferable to the
weightlessness of the unknown,
to try and recall the feeling-

looking at me, incredulous
to what you have, standing
at the hundredth crossroad
of your existence-

as if, at last, the moon has noticed
that its

The Mouse and the Pea - Haibun

Once upon a time but not too long ago, a little white mouse in fear of her life escaped from a laboratory. Tired and bewildered, she found her way to a friendly-looking house and huddled under a stove... warm, but so lonely. Later that evening, a pea rolled off the kitchen table where the family had eaten supper. The mouse scuttled the little green orb and snuffled it with her quivery pink nose. Oh she was very hungry, but she adored the pea's company, for it had come to her! She curled up with the pea and fell fast asleep. In the morning she awoke, full of hope, and saw that the pea had withered. Staying close, she sighed and said gen

"Whispers"

lovers and their touch-
incoming waves
spent
against the curves
of shoreline

lovers and their whispers-
foam washes into an
abandoned conch,
holding
their secrets

lovers and their passion-
sea lions
call to each other
as swells roll in from
deep waters

lovers and their song-
floating above sunrise,
gull cries echo
again and again
into sunset

lovers and their dreams-
midnight ocean calm,
a shooting star meets
another
shooting star

Mangosrunning barefoot down
narrow paths sodden by
a deafening downpour
through mangroves and palms,

in this land where
no corn grows, and
sugar cane rows blind the view
from untilled slopes of
low-slung emerald hills-

I don't recognize the rain,
it smells of volcanic ash
and sea salt burning

as I search for the stain
hopelessly trodden,
changing its course

if only I could find a tree
that bears familiar fruit,
and see colors or hear sounds
that point me to you

but I'm a stranger-
this path wends to the shore
where the island comes full circle

offering dead things in the sand
and no escape
because you're not here...

I

River DreamWhere I exist
the seasons linger
or die too soon

I cannot see
the subtle changes
or hear the cadence

I feel the shift
and taste the residue
between our lips

and on the air
where
it also lingers

his passing
will bring the rain
but I covet him more

suspended as we are
between the seasons

and when the dusk
is touched by
the brows of moths
he will walk away

a harbinger
of autumn's end
before it has begun

while I drift
a river dream
over which
a new moon ascends...

an oar dips silently
and I shiver

Shamanthe blinding light makes me cry,
hurting me even as it heals

where it comes from, the
earth shaman pulls it from the sky

from the mist that keeps him
from entering heaven, where

it rains silver-blue and gold,
his hands pull from me

black spots of disease,
white-hot threads pass through

turning bile into
pure energy, going inwards

the blessing of his craft
his selflessness - the gift
he himself
cannot partake of

his kind eyes, from which
his own tears now fall

Descending the Ghatbalancing a clay cup long gone cold,
my wet silks cling as I stand near a
half-naked woman, bowed and bathing
in the sluggish river Ganges...

and I watch smoke curl up from
the pyres of heavy earthen bodies
dissolving in the shallows while
all the lies of the world burn

Eclipsemoon guides me
on its voyage,
night wind
goes deep,
insinuating bones

fingers as white,
tonguing
the marrow of me-
I can't shiver the
chill from my soul

as intense as
everything I feel
while there's life,
who could
sustain it

a sadness
adrift,
where it takes me
I don't know,
I don't wonder

too numb
to feel the course
moon steers-
eyes soft focus,
total eclipse

Lightthe feeling of
freefalling off the edge
from the test results
on the phone alone-

always knowing that
nothing is certain except
for the bond between
us keeping vigil afar;

he offers to be near
all the same
no matter what that means,
or the sacrifice made-

I'm moved to tears,
how foolish I am
to apologize for the litany
of fears that befall me-

he judges not at all,
yet shames me with
the beauty of his caring,
shushing me when I fret;

I won't look pretty
by the deathwatch light
of a hospital room,
but I'm not there yet;

I'd rather he see me
by the radiance of
a winter's full moon
or a golden afternoon,

JugularAnts keep together in disorderly
double and triple file
as the jugular of their procession
creeps through the undergrowth,

their skeletal bodies
rapidly glint from the light
that finds its flickering way
through the forest canopy,

every antennae and leg in motion
waving placards, a savage haul
floating on a living ocean...

razors and bottle caps,
beetle pincers and thighs,
the arm off a pair of eye specs,
and shoelace tips on the side

to share with moldy leaves
found with rotted gizzard of
striped, spotted poisonous lizard
that had dined on them yesterday-

all parading past tomorrow's
repast if any should fall today
from

Scourgeleaves shuffled along
from breezes gone bitter
scatter
across a river

blackened
with maternal blood
from my thighs that
merge

with the onset
of autumn, and
the scourge
of our union-

clay soil darkened
with cooking oil
and carcasses,
and human waste

decomposing
in the dying light
of day and a life

the way summer
promises,
only to turn away

little stirrings XI: wreckage

rain showers soothe,
leaving reflections
upon my skin

the wreckage
within
untouched, unclean

never mind the pain,
when you are near
how sweet the rain

Corruptwhy do I pine the love and
mourn that which has never left?

a humming dulcimer-
raindrops strike the wrought iron

is there no one [else] left?
I lost everything to love

alone... so alone
your hand reassures me

you've always found me beautiful
in spite the perversion

your distance humbles,
resurrecting me, well-meaning,
to have it dashed

seeking not penance, but
the fires of your corruption
taking my body in the conflagration,

becoming one at last as my
ashes blow back onto you

scarlet flowers surround
the wild shrine in the grove
where devotees dance,
drinking from a bilva fruit husk,
and jackals circle endlessly

as the yellow serpent
emerges from my body
to devour each newborn-
issues of your loins-
I dance bare-breasted
upon your corpse, my Shiva...

the orgiastic spiral of
my limbs to the gourd-lute,
stoned on your blood
and stoned.
Shaktas sing you back to life
and to my craggy grotto-

songs never written down
except on centuries-old
paper, now mouldering
into extinction from
generations of monsoons
and my drunkenness...

jealously coveted
as divine property
by the owners alone-
these so

Haikuthon July 1-31, 2009

1 tanka

the hope of
summer rain vanishes
leaving
a neighbor's dog
to water the roses

2 haiku

heat wave chasing
all the birds and blues
from the sky

3 tanka

a cloud of gnats
follows
a child's sno-cone
through
the petting zoo

4 haiku/senryu

old mission archway
black birds napping
in ascending order

5 tanka

lunch at the beach,
businessmen strip
and wade into
childhood

6 haiku

looking out to sea
the sky walks a fine line

7 haiku renga

air ballet
on the breakwater...
fishermen and gulls

under the pier
bait in a plastic pail
holding their breath

8 haiku/senryu

still seeking shade,
mating crabs in the shallows

9 haiku

the

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the foot path
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near where he works,
feeling spring's
first touch upon us there

2

waiting for the wild plum
to blossom—
my yearning
during
his morning rituals

3

late afternoon,
a cold overcast from the bay—
winter, like a lover I've
grown tired of
who is loath to leave

4

upstairs, wrapped in velour
we looked out at
bare branches yesterday,
a riot of
tender new green today

5

after dinner and the taste
of take-out kisses,
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6

teacups gently rattle
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Senryu, and How It Differs from HaikuCompared to other styles of poetry under the category of Haiku and Eastern, there is comparatively little published about the more aggressive senryu.

Senryu, whose name means river willow, uses humor and satire to examine human society. Senryu takes on the form of haiku, but makes greater use of punctuation techniques (ellipses, exclamations, etc.) to convey its point. Senryu can use seasonal kigo, but do not rely on them. In senryu, the seasonal reference should be second in importance to the human portrayal. Contrary to popular belief, not all senryu is humorous. Many express misfortune, eroticism, political views (very important), religio

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Madeira

by `jade-pandora, Apr 10, 2009, 7:03:05 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / Post-Teen (Mature) / Free Verse

making our way, unhurried
past tumble-down walls leaning
against cork oak trees, and
covered with lampshade poppies,
we stroll from the open-air market
with its baskets of persimmons-

the Moorish sun of late afternoon
burns us both brown, obscuring
the winter of my scars-
our half-nude bodies celebrate
while each toe excavates
treasures from a sandy beach

leaving a path that fades
from the lapping of waves
that lie across our footsteps
in languid foreplay-
distant harbor lights offer
shimmering pearl necklaces

and the promise, as evening falls
to indulge in the warmth
of a shared glass of Madeira,
of wine-stained random kisses,
and the religion of a
star-filled Portuguese night

608

23 43 16

Madeiraby `jade-pandora

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Submitted on: April 10, 2009
File Size: 913 bytes

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`FuzzyHoser May 13, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Splendid work on the imagery..
And it has a delightful carefree feeling to it.

I like this a lot.

Reply

`jade-pandora May 14, 2011

why thank you, Fuzzy. <3

Reply

`FuzzyHoser May 14, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

You're more than welcome.

Reply

~DamagedHomewrecker May 6, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

i really love the imagery; the rhythm is like a slow waterfall. i love it.

Reply

`jade-pandora May 7, 2011

Thank you! I'm so very glad. <3

Reply

*beeinthebottle May 5, 2011 Writer

I forgot to mention...I love how the language in this piece flows, as well. Beautifully done.

Reply

`jade-pandora May 6, 2011

I thank you for coming to read and give me your thoughts - I'm very glad that you find it so.

Reply

*beeinthebottle May 5, 2011 Writer

Lovely imagery in this!

Reply

`jade-pandora May 6, 2011

Thank you, you don't know how much that means to me.

Reply

*beeinthebottle May 6, 2011 Writer

My pleasure.

Reply